Not Even The Rain Has Such Small Hands
by enomix
Summary: For the "Seven Slytherins Competition". An exploration on Tom Riddle Jr and his feelings towards love. Winter 1943: One night he wanders around the corridors and bumps into a girl he hasn't talked to in a while... Could Tom even remotely be in love? Please R&R! :)


**Written for _Umbrella-Ella_'s "Seven Slytherins Competition"  
Disclaimer: I do not own Tom Riddle or Hogwarts, just my own characters and the plot.  
"Somewhere I Have Never Travelled" is a poem by EE Cummings quoted in this story (and title)**

* * *

**Not even the rain has such small hands**

Winter 1943

"I'm afraid you will have to leave the library now, Mr Riddle," said Madame Alkibat, "It's well after ten and I've already done you a favour letting you stay while I arranged the new books."

Tom looked up from behind a tattered copy of _On Vampires and their Societies_. The table in front of him was buried in books, along with endless pieces of parchment that he had used for note making. In fact, it looked as though his mind had exploded and left a debris of literature all around him.

"Of course, Madame Alkibat. Thank you."

He gathered his documents into a neat pile, put them into his bag, collected his books and made his way out of the library. The corridor was dark and deserted.. The only sound to be heard was the echo of his footsteps, and the torches on the walls started to light up as he walked by.

Tom was used to the school at night.

He often went for walks around the castle after dark, wandering around the different corridors, keeping clear of Thyrsus Immitis, the caretaker, who patrolled the school after-hours looking for students out of bed.

Very occasionally he would walk into the ghosts, but they usually kept out of his way. They knew better. They knew what he was capable of.

For Tom was an amazingly intelligent young wizard. He excelled in every subject, in everything he did. He was polite, courteous and kept out of other people's business. Yet, there was a certain coolness about him, a sort of icy veil that kept him distant from everything that went on around him. His mind had matured incredibly quickly, though perhaps _too_ quickly – for he seemed to have stripped himself of all emotion and feelings.

He had killed his own father. And he had done so knowingly, deliberately, and impenitently. In fact, Tom did not regret anything at all, for he always thought things over very carefully before taking action.

But the events of the previous summer had not changed him; not the opening of the Chamber of Secrets, or the murder of his father. If anything, they re-established his sense of self-pride and intensified his need for power. His mother had been foolish to be drawn to the path of love; here he was, emotionless and commanding. His only goal in life was to become a man of importance. A man that people would hear of and fear. A man that people would respect.

He had never crossed paths with anyone in the corridors after hours, not ever.

Not until that day.

He had been so absorbed in his own thoughts that he had not noticed the figure that had suddenly appeared the other side of the corridor. Instantly, however, he stopped walking, sensing that something was out of place.

Looking around, he spotted it.

For a split second he thought it might be Immitis, but the emerging silhouette made it quite clear that it was not in fact, the caretaker.

"I didn't expect to bump into you here, Etheldreda," said Tom from the darkness.

There was a loud thump as the girl dropped her books on the floor in surprise.

"Riddle!" she hissed. "What do you think you're doing? You scared me…"

"And consequently woke up the whole school, it seems," he replied curtly.

"Lower your voice!" she warned, "Immitis is around here somewhere, I almost bumped into him a few moments ago, he was going towards the dungeons."

Tom took a second to take in the appearance of the girl in front of him. She still had her Slytherin robes on beneath a thick jade cloak, and her black hair was carelessly tucked into the woollen scarf she wore around her neck. She was not particularly beautiful, but there was something about her that immediately made her stand out. Perhaps it was the iciness that surrounded her presence, a coolness not unlike Tom's.

As it so happened, Etheldreda Hunt was one of the few other students that Tom held a bit of respect for. In fact, Tom would have considered her as close to an equal as he was capable of having. She was very intelligent, diligent in her studies, and stayed clear of all trouble. There was something interesting about her, nonetheless, and in Tom's eyes it was her natural authority. She had a way of keeping her head serene and her person so composed that inspired confidence and loyalty in those she talked to. She was a girl that could be relied on.

"I think I hear footsteps coming this way," she whispered, her eyes alert.

Tom took her by the arm and led her to a small door on the side of the corridor. "This way."

He let go of her to close the door and take out his wand.

"_Lumos_."

"Where are we?" breathed Etheldreda, following Tom down the dim passageway.

"Keep your voice down," he replied, "he may think of looking this way. As for the passage, it leads to the 4th floor East Wing corridor."

"But that's on the other side of the school! How will we get back to the dormitories?"

Tom stopped and turned around.

"I don't know about you, but I wasn't planning on going back so soon. I hadn't meant to divert my route until I came across you in the corridor. You can do as you like; you can go back if you want. He's probably gone by now."

Etheldreda bit her lip. She, in fact, had had the intention of returning to her bed, but curiosity got the better of her and she shook her head.

"I'll go with you."

"Suit yourself," he answered, and turned to walk ahead again.

After a silence that lasted for a quarter of an hour, they finally reached the East Wing.

"Well, here we are," whispered the boy.

"Where are you going now?" Etheldreda asked.

"I don't really know. Forward."

The girl raised an eyebrow. "Right."

She had known Tom from her very first day at Hogwarts. They had sat next to each other at the welcoming feast, and had been classroom partners on numerous occasions. They got along quite well, and she considered herself to be one of the few people that Tom was capable of having a decent conversation with. He had gained a few more "friends" these past few years, but she could read people well enough to tell that he didn't really care about them. Not that she thought that he saw her in any different way, but she felt that they shared some kind of psychological connection. In fact, she had almost asked him to go to the Spring Ball with her two years ago, but had decided against it after turning down her third invitation and realizing that Tom would not want to go, with or without her, anyway. She had gone with Zachary Sors instead.

She could still remembered the look Tom had given her when she had come back to the common room, Zachary's arm around her shoulder. He had been sitting in the corner of the Common Room, head behind a copy of _Torbin the Centaur_. His eyes had slowly looked up as the crowd made their way into the room noisily, and had immediately set themselves on hers. For a moment, their gaze seemed to be a mixture of careless disappointment and disbelief, but a second later they had gone back to their casual coolness. His attitude towards her had slightly changed after that, but as soon as she had stopped seeing Zachary Sors, their relationship had gone back to the way it had been previously.

Yet, since they had gotten back to school after the summer holidays, she had noticed him different again. She knew that she– well, that nobody – was close enough to Tom to know what was going on in his mind; but she sensed a new iciness to his actions. He had been far more distant this term, and barely associated himself with her (or with anyone, for that matter), except when completely necessary.

Etheldreda knew it wasn't because of something she specifically had done; but their lack of interaction made her realize that she did in fact enjoy spending time with him and missed their conversations, however occasional they had been previously.

She was also equally aware of the fact that Tom had grown into an exceedingly handsome young man, and though he was generally unpopular with girls due to his reserved disposition, because she shared some kind of intellectual attachment with him, she in reality found him curiously attractive.

"Do you mind if I come with you?" she asked after the boy had gone forward a few paces.

"I was planning on going outside…" he explained, "I don't know when exactly I'll come back."

She shrugged her shoulders.

"It doesn't matter. I'm not sleepy anyway."

"Alright, then."

Etheldreda smiled silently in the darkness as she followed him towards the staircases.

* * *

The sky was an inky black when they left the castle. The distant wind could be heard, hissing through the turrets and caressing the water of the lake.

"Do you often walk around at night?" she asked him as they approached a group of trees next to the Black Lake.

Tom nodded his head.

"It helps clear my mind. I like to be alone."

She frowned. "Well, I'm sorry I interrupted you."

The boy stopped and turned around.

"Don't apologize. If you were going to disturb me if I wouldn't have agreed to you coming with me."

He sat down, resting his back against the trunk of a giant pine tree.

"Besides, I don't dislike your company. You have interesting things to say sometimes."

She joined him next to the tree.

"Just sometimes? That's nice to know."

They were silent for a few minutes, listening to the soft ripples of the water. It suddenly struck Tom how strange the situation they were in was.

He had been on quite good terms with her in previous years, but since September he had been rather reserved and hadn't really talked to her very much. They hadn't had a confrontation in any way; but the events of the summer had marked him and changed his way of acting, turning him into an almost machine-like man. He had to admit that he had somewhat missed talking to someone – not that it was a real necessity for him or that he had ever felt the desire to start a conversation – but there was something pleasant about talking to Etheldreda.

He sensed that she understood him in a way that no one else did. She did not know of his motives or actions, but she could comprehend his state of mind and knew how to respond to it. She also had the talent of incredibly interesting conversation, and although Tom barely concerned himself with unnecessary dialogue; he did enjoy the discussions that they had.

He had been approached about her several times by his new "friends" (not that he actually thought of them that way). Edmond Lestrange had often made jokes about Tom's friendship with Etheldreda, though deep down they all knew that Tom was not truly interested by her in that way. In fact, he suspected that in fact all three of his friends, Edmond as well as Humphrey Avery and Paschal Nott, were attracted to Etheldreda's persona to some degree.

He was quite aware of the fact that physically she was quite appealing, and indeed he himself considered her to be quite desirable; but Tom was not the kind of boy to take notice of his feelings. He did not consider himself to be in any way attracted to Etheldreda despite his recognition of her intellectual and physical appeal.

All of a sudden, he recalled the time when he had walked into a classroom towards the end of his fourth year with the purpose of practicing a few Transfiguration spells when he had found Amelia Pearson and Pierce Bondfell snogging their faces off on one of the tables. Their reaction had been quite amusing, but what had struck Tom most had been the idea of romantic love – the sudden realization of its physical, palpable existence.

The occurrence had naturally sparked his curiosity, but he had waited until the summer to explore his new interest. Back at the orphanage, he had quite easily succeeded in getting one of the girls, Polly Mackenzie, to fall in love with him. The experience had been incredibly interesting – not only examining Polly's behaviour towards him and the expectations everyone suddenly had of him, but also the purely physical experience of kissing. This summer he had indulged himself again, and his relationship with Polly intensified on a physical level… He was aware that she had grown romantically attached to him, but he merely saw her as a social experiment, as well as a way to let go of the pressure that had been building up inside him. Tom did not see her as an equal – she was an orphan, a muggle orphan, an ignorant muggle orphan with bleach blonde hair and stupidly short skirts.

Perhaps it was this experience that had led him to dissociate the idea of romantic relationships from that of physical relationships. He was aware that his mother had fallen victim to love and had desperately resorted to a love potion to enchant his father. For that, he regarded her with some contempt. She, a pureblood witch, had given up all her honour for a lousy muggle who didn't even love her back. Merope had fooled herself. And for this very reason Tom regarded love with slight suspicion; for he had seen what fools it made of those who fell prey to it.

After he had grown bored of Polly came Teresa, and then Sally.

But in no moment had he ever experienced anything that he would dare to call love. And he suspected that this was mainly because he saw love was a weak characteristic, a feeling that drove even the best of men and women to folly.

"It's nice to be out here," he said finally, "I'd never been by the lake at this time of night before."

Etheldreda looked at him, her eyes smiling.

"I don't think anyone has, Tom."

He laughed.

"True. If they knew we were out here… Dippet would have a heart attack or something."

The girl shook her head, grinning.

"If that man ever puts you in detention I'll throw myself off the Astronomy building!"

Tom whistled.

"You shouldn't make promises like that," he whispered. "I might just break the rules to see if you'd dare."

She didn't know whether to laugh or not – she knew of Tom's curious personality, and was aware of how cold he had become as time had gone by.

"Does that mean you want me dead?"

"Of course not. Why would you say that?" he inquired, frowning.

Etheldreda took a moment to respond, collecting her thoughts.

"I don't know… It's just… Ever since the whole thing with Myrtle you started acting strange, and now since you've come back from the holidays you seem so distant… Well, even more so than usual, I mean. And I just can't help but think that maybe…it has something to do with m–"

"No."

Tom hesitated before continuing.

"It… It has nothing to do with you. I'm sorry if I made it seem that way… Listen, Etheldreda, I think you're a very interesting girl. It's just that I've had a lot on my mind lately… I've been focused on some other things, you know?"

"Yes, I understand. I – I obviously don't expect you and I to always be the friends we were in first year. It's just…nice to talk to you once in a while."

They sat in silence again, contemplating the dark around them. Tom could hear the girl breathing calmly next to him, and he felt a sudden impulse to take her hand. Her fingers were extremely cold, but she did not turn him away.

What was it about her hands that made them so soft? He had felt his fingers twinge as if they had been stupefied when he had taken hers. And out of nowhere, he suddenly remembered a poem that the headmistress of the orphanage had made them memorize to recite when guests (usually doctors, the police or possible adoptive parents) came to visit.

_I do not know what it is about you that closes and opens;_

_only something in me understands_

_the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses_

_nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands._

Tom could feel the girl's heartbeat through her wrist, the cyclic pulse of her blood flowing through her veins. He did not know what he was doing, or was making him act in the way that he was.

"Listen, Tom," murmured Etheldreda from beside him. He could feel her pulse quickening. "There's something I've been wanting to talk to you about for some time now… I've just not – well I don't – in fact, the other day – the thing is – you know what, never mind."

"Are you cold?" he said after a while. She shivered beside him. "Yes." He let go of her hand and pulled off his cloak and arranged it so that it covered both of them.

"Is that better?"

"Very. Thank you," she replied softly.

They sat for there quietly for a while, until Etheldreda couldn't take it anymore.

"You know what, I'm just going to go right out and tell you." She took a deep breath and looked straight at Tom's cold eyes.

"I was going to ask you to the Spring Ball in fourth year."

His gaze showed no emotion.

"I know."

"There, I've said it, now – wait. What do you mean, you _know_? How could you possibly _know_?"

"It was hardly a very difficult deduction… You turned down three of the most popular boys in school and didn't have much contact with other boys apart from me; evidently you were hoping that I would ask you."

"Then… Then why didn't you? If you knew?"

Tom sighed.

"I didn't think of you in that sense… I did not think of anyone in that sense, for that matter. Which is why I studied instead of going to the dance. But that was ages ago. No need to bring it up now, you don't have any hard feelings, do you?" he asked, getting up.

"Well, no; naturally not… Are you leaving?"

The boy nodded coolly. "It's getting a bit too late. I need to get some sleep."

Etheldreda followed his example.

"I see. Shall we walk back to the castle?"

Tom frowned. "Sure."

* * *

They made their way back in silence, both slightly uncomfortable with the way things had turned out. Etheldreda was a bit disappointed, for Tom's sudden grasp of her hand had made her heart leap and she had realized that perhaps she still was in love with him.

Meanwhile, Tom had a swarm of confused thoughts whizz through his mind. He still did not understand what had made him act on such an impulse, and though he was aware of the possibility of the girl having some sort of feelings for him, he was unsure of how he felt about it. On one hand, it repulsed him to think that he had inspired love – that sickly fragile emotion – in someone else, and disappointed him that someone for whom he had had a considerable amount of respect would have been affected by such a feeling. On the other hand, the idea that a young woman whom he had held in the highest esteem was in love with him filled him with a new sense of pride. This incertitude led him to question his own feelings towards her. He refused to believe that he was capable of loving, for he had sworn not to succumb to it after seeing the effects it had on others, but perhaps there was something, some sort of psychological attachment that was less binding and that he could possibly experience.

"Well, this is where our paths diverge," said Etheldreda once they had reached the Slytherin Common Room. "It was nice to talk to you again. Good night, Tom."

She started to go up the stairs towards the girls' dormitories.

"Wait, Ethel! Wait!" he whispered, calling after her.

She sighed and made her way down again.

"What do you want now, Tom?"

Without stopping to think twice, the half-blood seized her waist, pulled her towards him, and put his lips to hers.

They kissed for a few moments in the deserted common room, both astounded at what was happening. Etheldreda let herself be taken by the moment and wrapped her arms around him gently, while Tom simply let go of his self-control and kissed her passionately.

After they let go of each other, they stood in silence, contemplating each other's gaze with the dim light of the fireplace. And at that moment, although Tom would have loved to be able to say that he had felt nothing, that it had been like kissing Polly or Teresa or Sally, he knew that though he was not sure of what exactly he had experienced, he would be lying to himself.

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed that, please all constructive criticism is welcome and just leave a short review if you want saying what you thought of that :) Thanks for reading!**


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